TB: Inspiration in Bartlett’s butter fingers
In a previous article, I spoke of how Gavin McCallum became my source of footballing passion and interest in my first match. But, when my interest in football was first aroused at the ripe old age of 7, this was too late to instantly break into my social circle’s starting eleven as a winger and I found myself quickly put in goal. Having established that my stature and distaste for running suited the goalkeeping position, I soon turned my focus further down Edgar Street’s hallowed turf to find a new idol to look up to. And there between the sticks was a certain Adam Bartlett. Every game onwards, I would watch Bartlett’s movements and hope to one day do the same. Where most fans would bemoan Bartlett’s erratic distribution of the leather and errors guarding the onion bag, I saw the most powerful goal kicks I’d ever seen and shot-stopping ability I hoped I could emulate when guarding the space between my junior school goalposts made out of red jumpers. As someone sat comfortably in C Bloc